Some memories don't want to stay forgotten.
Some rooms don't want to stay closed."
---
0:43 AM.
Rain tapping on the window like a whisper from something that once loved me.
But outside, there's no one.
Inside, though?
She's watching.
Or maybe I'm just seeing myself through her eyes now.
---
1. The Sound Beneath the Floor
It started with a sound.
A soft thud beneath the bed. Like someone dropped a stone heart through the wooden boards.
I leaned down. Nothing.
Then again — thud.
Consistent. Not footsteps. Not plumbing.
Like someone was trapped below.
Like someone wanted to be found.
I lifted the carpet. The floorboard was cracked — not by accident. Cut open, then forced shut. Badly.
I pressed. It moved.
Beneath was a rusted metal ring. A handle.
And under that?
A staircase.
A place that shouldn't exist.
---
2. The Forgotten Room
I lit my phone flashlight and descended, one step at a time.
The air got colder with each breath. The kind of cold that doesn't just touch your skin — it wraps around your soul.
The basement wasn't on the dorm blueprints.
But it was real.
And it remembered me.
Walls lined with red-thread strings, pinned photos with faces scratched out, post-it notes that said things like:
> "She KNEW."
"He watched her die."
"The deal was yours."
My hand trembled as I reached for the single object in the center:
A camcorder, wrapped in a blood-stained scarf.
---
3. Press Play
I didn't want to see it.
Which is how I knew I had to.
I pressed play.
Static. Then a flicker.
Then her.
Mei.
On the screen, she looked alive. More than I'd ever remembered. Eyes bright. Lips trembling.
> "If you're watching this… then the reset failed."
She was crying.
> "You always said you wanted to forget. But you can't erase pain by deleting people, Yuto. You can't love me and erase me."
> "I begged you that night. Don't go to him. Don't make the deal."
My chest clenched.
> "I thought I could save you. I should've saved myself."
The screen glitched.
Then:
> "March 5th. Rooftop. You pushed me."
I dropped the camera.
And I screamed.
---
4. The Scent of Guilt
My hands are stained.
Not with blood.
With something worse — memory.
I ran to the mirror and splashed my face. Tried to wipe the horror off.
But my reflection was smiling.
Not me.
Him.
The version of me that made the deal.
The version that killed her.
---
5. Haruki Knows More
The next morning, I cornered Haruki.
"Tell me about the basement."
He looked shaken. "What basement?"
I showed him the photos. The camcorder. The scarf.
He backed away like I was holding fire.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
But I saw it in his eyes.
He remembered too.
The reset didn't work completely.
---
6. The Note in My Pocket
I didn't write it.
But it was in my jacket. Folded carefully.
It read:
> "Yuto,
You pushed her.
You cried after.
You didn't ask for forgiveness.
You asked for forgetting."
And below it:
> "The Archivist will return. And this time, he won't offer peace."
---
7. The Archivist Returns
That night, the lights dimmed again. Like breath being sucked out of the room.
The mirror rippled.
And he stepped out.
The Archivist.
> "You went into the room," he said, calm as death.
I clenched my fists. "What did I trade?"
His grin was cold. "You traded truth for comfort. Love for silence. And her soul… for your clean hands."
> "Can I undo it?"
> "There is no undo. Only… remember."
He raised his hand.
And suddenly—
I remembered everything.
---
8. The Fall
March 5th.
Rain on the rooftop.
Mei screaming: "You don't get to decide what's real for both of us!"
Me: "I can't live with this! I just want peace!"
Her hand on my chest. My hand on hers.
One step back.
Then none.
And she fell.
Not because I meant to.
But because I didn't stop her.
I didn't save her.
And then I made the deal.
---
9. The Aftermath
I wake up, screaming.
There's blood on my shirt.
I check my hands — clean.
Check the camcorder — missing.
The scarf — gone.
But the guilt? Still there.
And on the wall, written in red ink:
> "Memory is the real punishment."
---
10. Final Line
There are some doors you can't unopen.
Some deals you can't undo.
And some girls… who don't forgive.
But they never forget.